


It Will Come Back

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Break Up, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Make Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sammy,” he breathes. Sam turns back around and finishes making his food, making none for Dean. “Sam, I --”<br/>“I don’t want to hear it.”<br/>“Sam --” Sam rounds on him.<br/>“Shut up, okay? You think I cheated when I didn’t, Dean, and I would <em>never</em> do that. Are you just looking for some reason to break up with me? If you want to get away from me so badly then leave!” Sam yells, and Dean shrinks back from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Will Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

“What the hell, Sammy?” Dean yells, slamming the apartment door behind him, and Sam jumps.

He sets his textbook to the side, and puts his pen down on top of his notebook.

“What did I do?” Sam asks, and his stomach turns nervously as he thinks of things that he has done. Nothing relevant comes to mind, so Sam doesn’t worry, he’s just confused.

“Care to explain this picture to me?” Dean asks, and shoves his phone in Sam’s face, crossing his arms and pursing his lips when Sam grabs it from him.

There’s a picture of him from the bar party from a couple weeks ago grinding on some guy he can’t remember. He’s not even moderately attractive, but the jealousy is plain on Dean’s face, layered up with anger and betrayal.

“I have no idea who that is, Dean, I swear. I wasn’t even drinking, but I know I didn’t do anything.”

“That sure looks like something to me, Sam,” Dean snaps. Rarely does Sam ever see raw emotion on Dean’s face outside of the bedroom, but right now he can see tears threatening to spill over, and the urge to cry comes over him as Dean storms out of the apartment much like he barged in, the door slamming behind him with a note of finality.

He can hear the roar of the impala, and then it’s gone, and he watches Dean tear down the street off to God knows where.

Sam’s still holding the phone in his hand.

He looks through Dean’s phone trying to find out where he got the picture, and he traces it back to a FaceBook photo album with random people from the bar, and Sam just happens to be in one of them.

He wonders why Dean was looking at the page in the first place. Probably for deals on free drinks he's about to go use.

Sam waits around the apartment, too worried to do work, so he goes through the fridge and drinks all the beer they have. It's cheap and stale, but it's better than nothing.

Sam watches television, and he takes his time in the shower.

He ends up passing out on the couch too anxious to even take off his clothes, to put a blanket around his shoulders.

He wakes up shivering and still alone. He finishes his morning ritual of brushing his teeth, taking another shower, and changing into school appropriate clothes, but he really doesn’t feel like going to his classes, so he texts Jess. He asks her to give him the assignments he needs the next time they meet, which is usually for coffee on the weekends.

She texts back asking what’s wrong, but he doesn’t respond. He throws his phone to the side, and he curls up in his bed. It’s the large king one Dean and him exchanged for with two old doubles so they could finally sleep in the same bed without having to worry about the mattresses getting pushed apart in the middle of the night, their joined hands the only thing connecting them because even in their sleep they have to be touching in some way.

The other side is cold for the first time since they got it, and he pulls the blankets up to his ears, and falls back under.

The next time he comes to it’s because his stomach is turning, the hangover finally settling in, and he rushes to the bathroom to throw up.

He gags for a long time, but when he finishes he brushes his teeth and rinses his mouth out. His head is pounding, his throat is raw now, and his stomach is still churning and twisting uncomfortably.

His phone rings, but he doesn’t have the strength to get up off the bathroom floor to get it.

It rings again, three more times, but he still can’t bring himself to get up, to get his jelly-like legs to move.

He remembers why he doesn’t drink.

Hours later when he’s able to stop his groaning and moaning, when he’s sure his stomach is done doing its thing, he gets up and crawls beneath his sheets.

He breathes in deep, catching Dean’s scent that he misses even after it only being gone for a day.

His phone rings, and he grunts as he pulls himself from the bed to answer it.

“Hello?” He drawls.

“Sam? Sammy? Are you okay? You didn’t pick up, and I thought --”

“Don’t call me again,” Sam snaps, and hangs up the phone.

Dean calls periodically, twice an hour, but each time Sam clicks the ‘end call’ button, and eventually the ‘block caller’ button.

He’s done nothing wrong, but suddenly he’s so angry at Dean for thinking he did. Does Dean really not trust him, thinks he slept with some seedy guy from a random bar party put on by frat guys? He’s not that shallow.

Plus, Sam thinks, he’s in a committed relationship with him. Why the hell would he think Sam would do anything like that when he’s clearly in love with Dean?

Sam sighs and throws his phone across the room again.

Luckily it lands on a pile of laundry, but he couldn’t care less as to where it landed. It would have been better if it shattered, but then he'd have to get a new one, and his paycheck doesn't come in until Friday.

He makes himself something to eat, but freezes when a key twists in the lock -- the door to the apartment is being opened.

It’s just Dean.

He looks horrible, a trickle of blood making its way down his face from a gash on his forehead, and he’s stumbling, waddling, as he makes his way to the couch that he pitches himself onto.

He doesn’t even see Sam standing there with a bread knife in hand, half done spreading mayonnaise on a partially rotten piece of bread.

“Dean?” He asks, and Dean sits bolt upright, looking around frantically before his eyes land on Sam, and his expression softens.

“Sammy,” he breathes. Sam turns back around and finishes making his food, making none for Dean. “Sam, I --”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Sam --” Sam rounds on him.

“Shut up, okay? You think I cheated when I didn’t, Dean, and I would _never_ do that. Are you just looking for some reason to break up with me? If you want to get away from me so badly then leave!” Sam yells, and Dean shrinks back from him.

“Sam, that’s . . . I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then why did you?” Sam asks, brokenhearted. His chest hurts and it’s getting increasingly harder to breathe.

“I had to think.”

“In a bar? You smell like whiskey, and why is your head bleeding?”

“Okay, mom,” Dean bites out. “Sorry, I . . . sorry, ignore me, I’m drunk.”

“Obviously. Look . . . if you want to break up --”

“No, Sam, I made a mistake. I fucked up and I came back to fix it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you for something that you never did, and I should have trusted and listened to you.” Dean must be incredibly drunk to be speaking so freely, but Sam’s not complaining about it right now, he needs to here how Dean really feels. “I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

Sam walks back over with a damp paper towel to wipe the blood off his brother’s face.

“What happened?” Sam asks quietly, and Dean shrugs.

“Bar fight, me bein’ dumb like usual.”

“You got that right.”

“Sammy, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?” Sam pulls back and looks at Dean for a long while, just staring at his brother who looks just as lost and hurt as he does.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam croaks. “Yeah, I forgive you. Was a stupid fight anyway.”

Dean pulls Sam in close and he has to climb up onto the couch as Dean begins kissing deeply.

“Come on, I haven’t showered today so there’s a lot of warm water.” Dean moans.

“I could use a good shower,” he says resting his hands on Sam’s hips. “Join me?”

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _It Will Come Back_ by Hozier  
> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/post/99871679299/im-taking-prompts-now-yay-if-you))


End file.
